


(All Coming) Back to Me

by Dreadbeasts



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Songfic, Spice, Spoilers, they're like 25 in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreadbeasts/pseuds/Dreadbeasts
Summary: (Through the moon spoilers!)Ten years later, Rayla and Callum attend a diplomatic function.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87
Collections: Rayllum Porn





	(All Coming) Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the fact that I love metal and goth music I also... really like Celine Dion. I was listening to this in the car and was like THIS IS A RAYLLUM SONG NOW so here ya go. There's fuckin' in this fic, y'all, if you're under 18, avert yon eyes.
> 
> It's set 10 years in the future so Callum and Rayla are 25 and 26 in this, and therefore enthusiastically consenting adults. Even then, though, I tried to keep the language a bit... tasteful. 
> 
> What's this? I'm writing songfic? AND SMUT?! who is this and what did they do with Dreadbeasts?!

_ There were nights when the wind was so cold… _

He hasn’t seen Rayla since she disappeared from the Moon Nexus in the middle of the night, ten years ago. He hadn’t expected to see her here. True, when he heard there would be an emissary from the Silvergrove at the Solar Concordance his heart had  _ hoped _ , but those kinds of hopes were pale, barely-alive things that flopped weakly in his chest, not the same kind of intense longing he felt in the days after she vanished.

And now, she’s here. She’s taller and the definition of her musculature is evident under the clean lines of the tunic she’s wearing, her horns longer and her face leaner, longer,  _ older _ , but it’s those same luminous purple eyes. He doesn’t miss it when they widen in surprise at his presence, but really.

The Queen of Lux Aurea’s wife is his Aunt. Between his magical studies and being, y’know, the Crown Prince of Katolis, it’d be unseemly for him  _ not _ to show up at Amaya’s side to represent his brother, who unfortunately has treaty negotiations in Neolandia ( _ finally _ ) to attend. The peace forged between Xadia and the Pentarchy is still new - not as new and strange and tenuous as it had been in the months following the return of Prince Azymondias to the Storm Sprire, but with the final treaty between Katolis and Neolandia, peace - real peace - has come to their world at long last. 

Callum sniffs in annoyance. A peace that he and Ezran had hewn out of stubborn elves and royals without Rayla’s help, while she chased after phantoms. Rayla had stayed in touch with Soren throughout it all, so Callum knew she’d been successful, at least, in putting an end to Viren and assisting Soren in bringing Claudia home - damaged, broken and shaking with palsy from how much of her own vitality she’d used up helping her father and the Startouch elf they’d allied themselves with. She hadn’t lived much longer than a year once Soren brought her home and helped her convalesce in the castle, her years already spent at age 19. 

With her dying breath she had called out for their father. Ezran had given Soren several months of leave, and he’d gone to Del Bar to reconnect with his mother, the only family left to him. 

Callum steals a glance towards Rayla, and scowls when the elf responsible for killing his father strides up behind her. He looks gaunt, and wears a prosthetic arm of silver metal, matching the metal on his horns. So she’d figured out how to free her parents from those coins, then. A small part of him still wishes he’d been able to go on those adventures, fight those battles against evil mages and deadly dangers but it hadn’t been so. His path had led him to his brother’s side and outwards, into both the role he didn’t want of Prince and the role he did of Mage. 

He sighs and squares his shoulders, staring ahead as the horns spit out a fanfare, heralding Queen Janai’s arrival. 

Rayla being here doesn’t mean anything. What’s done is done, and the storm of emotions - of love and hate and anger and grief and longing - has long since subsided. 

\---

_ But you were history with the slamming of the door… _

In hindsight, she really should have expected to see Callum here. She’d avoided every function of this sort, but now that Runaan is back and her adventures are more or less over, with Viren’s ashes scattered across the Spinning Sea and Aaravos’s husk wandering the midnight desert, a shell of his former self, she has no reason to avoid her duties. 

Long since unghosted at the behest of the Dragon Queen, Rayla is, more or less, Callum’s equal, as the heir to the leader of the Moonshadow clans. That doesn’t mean that stuffy dignitary events like the Solar Concordance don’t make her want to pull her horns out from boredom, and she’s been avoiding them for mostly that reason, but also…

He’s grown in the last ten years. He’s taller and his hair is neater and he carries himself with a confidence and calm she hadn’t seen on him before, the angles of manhood cutting his familiar features into new and interesting shapes. He’s clearly finished learning whatever Ibis and other mages could teach him, if the elegant staff he wields - a swirling Sky primal stone set between the broken towers of Katolis - is any indication. His arms are still bare, with those three runes gleaming white on his skin, but the broadness of his shoulder is enhanced by the suggestion of lean muscle. 

Vaguely, Rayla remembers how acrobatic some of the sky mages she’s ran into are, and wonders if the same applies to the dorky, shy boy she once knew. She’s spent all this time avoiding him, and now here he is, and she’s kicking herself for letting her feelings slip like this.

In all his letters, Soren never mentioned Callum beyond casual updates. She wouldn’t have wanted to read them anyway, because the pain would have been too much, and her commitment to ending Viren once and for all would have flagged. It’s why she’d left in the middle of the night, because if she’d seen the endless emerald field of those eyes begging her to stay, to let him come too, she would have been completely unable to leave.

So she had slammed the door on all those feelings, stuffed them down within her heart, where they couldn’t bother her. Feelings were just lies your heart told you to get in your way, so she told herself. 

“Ice Princess,” he’d called her, a Skywing boy she’d dallied out with in pitiful hope that someone else could quell the gnawing in her heart and loins, to no avail. It hadn’t been his fault when she’d pulled away from him angrily, swearing under her breath. But the green eyes - more of an acid green than the mossy hue she couldn’t purge from her memory - were too much and it wasn’t fair to him - to either of them - to try and replace what she was denying herself. 

Further and further down she’d pushed her heart away, drying it out and burying it at the feet of duty long ago.

And now, here he was. 

No matter how many illusions she cast around her feelings, how many lies she told herself, told Soren, told her people, told  _ him _ … the truth shone out like the sun. 

She glanced over at him, frustrated at how  _ good _ he looked and how  _ ten years later _ she was still not over him. With luck, he’d be over her and she’d be able to move on.

\--

_ There were days when the sun was so cruel... _

They avoid each other all day. 

It’s after the evening ceremonies when Amaya pulled Callum aside, into an alcove in the palace. “Enough’s enough,” she signed. “I’m sick of watching you two pretend the other isn’t here. Go talk to her already, you dumbass.”

“What would I even say?” he whines, slumping down against the wall with petulance. “All my feelings for her faded a long time ago.”

His aunt doesn’t say anything, just raises one eyebrow and folds her arms, regarding him with a cool stare.

“They did!” he insists, heat rising in his cheeks and ears. “Aunt Amaya, it’s been ten years. You don’t just… hang on to your teenage girlfriend for that long.”

He’s lying, of course. He absolutely has held a candle for Rayla this entire time, even as fires of his passionate love declared when he first summoned his wings cooled to barely-alive embers. And it’s not like he’s had any want of available paramours. Noble lords and ladies around his age have been practically throwing themselves at him. There have been some attractive people in those numbers, yes, but… he doesn’t want any of them. 

He wants her. He always has. He always will.

Amaya continues to stare holes into him as he realizes this, the truth piercing his heart like a flash of lightning. 

“I uh… I have to go,” he mumbles with his fingers, and all but shoves his staff into her hands. She watches him go and shakes her head ruefully. They’re in their 20s now, but to her they’ll always be the dumb kids who carried a dragon egg halfway around the world. 

When Callum rounds the corner, picking up speed as he goes, Amaya wanders off to find her wife and update her on the situation. She’s got a breakfast-in-bed bet riding on the two of them reuniting and she can’t wait to rub it in Janai’s face.

\--

_ And I banished every memory you and I had ever made... _

“You’re avoiding the prince,” says Runaan, sneaking up behind her and scaring the daylights out of her. Rayla manages to keep the moonberry wine in her mouth, rather than spewing it all over the pristine white and gold tapestry she’s not… entirely hiding behind. 

She swallows hastily, the alcohol burning her throat as she chokes it down in an effort to keep it in her mouth and keep her composure along with it, and clears her throat. “Runaan!” she says airly, turning to face him with a forced smile. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Runaan’s expression says it all - he has no time for this bullshit. “Rayla, you haven’t said a word to Prince Callum all day. In fact, every time he has entered the same room as you, you have quickly found an exit. Even I, who has no love for Katolis and whom he has every reason to despise, have managed to have a cordial conversation with him.” He folds his hands behind his back and squares his shoulders, the pose of a commanding officer. “You are being very rude to an important ally.”

Rayla scowls. “You know it’s more than that.”

“I am not unaware, yes.” Runaan regards her coolly, his emotions inscrutable as always, which means he  _ disapproves _ . “However, your untended feelings are not an acceptable reason for a diplomatic faux pas.”

“I  _ left _ him. In the middle of the night!” she protests. “How can I show my face to him now?”

Runaan softens, and sighs, weary, and gestures to a bench out of the way, inviting her to sit. She does, hesitantly, and he sits beside her. “Little blade, our people are not… ones to show our hearts so readily. Your mother, myself, our kin… we hide our emotions as the moon hides her face, only letting the reflections of others shine outwardly upon us. But every so often,” and now, Runaan smiles at his adopted daughter, every so faintly, “one of us is born with a full moon heart. A Moonshadow elf with a heart that lights the darkness around it, compelling all who behold it to gaze upon it, and, no matter what tries to eclipse it, it shines.”

Rayla gazes at him keenly, hanging on his words, for Runaan is not often so free with what he says. 

“Ethari is one such elf,” says Runaan, smiling softly at the thought of his husband, who is free with his feelings and gentle with his words, lighting the way for Runaan, always. He turns to Rayla. “And so are you.”

“I shouldn’t be,” says Rayla, hunching slightly. “I should be strong, able to lead without my stupid feelings getting in the way.”

“And yet, was it not your feelings that forged this peace?” retorts Runaan. “I tried to raise you to be like me, and yet, that night on the tower, when you defied me, I mistook your compassion for weakness. I have since learned I was wrong.” Runaan stands, and fiddles with the strap holding his prosthetic arm on. “For centuries our people have lived in shadows. What we need now is a guiding light that can teach us to listen to our hearts and lead us with bravery and compassion. Someone who can lead  _ because _ of her feelings, rather than in spite of them.”

Rayla is stunned to silence. 

His adjustments to his arm finished, Runaan glances at her sidelong. “If nothing else, I advise you to talk to Prince Callum purely for diplomatic reasons. Should your emotions still be encumbering you afterwards, well… do try to avoid a messy diplomatic situation.”

He saunters off to converse with the contingency from the Earthblood tribes, leaving Rayla rooted to the spot, thunderstruck.

\--

_ But when I see you like this... _

It’s almost midnight and the festivities are dying down. Callum’s search for Rayla has been unfruitful, and he’s returning to his room to give up when he rounds the corner to the guest bedrooms, and there she is.

Standing in the moonlit hall, a gentle night breeze lifts the golden curtains of the open-air hallway and swirls them around her. The moonlight reflects off of her hair, making it almost seem to glow. She stares at him, those limpid eyes shining in the dark, two endless amethysts swallowing him in.

He freezes.

_ And when you see me like that… _

In the moonlight the lines of his face and arms are stronger than she remembers, but it’s still him, still her dorky prince, her loud mage, that brown hair and those green, green eyes that have haunted her dreams and fantasies all this time. 

He’s there, in the flesh. It’s actually him. 

The heat rises in her chest and between her legs and Rayla realises she cannot run from him any longer. 

She never wanted to in the first place.

_ We see what we want to see… _

He wants to be mad at her. Wants to yell, wants to curse her out, throw his anger and hurt at her feet and demand justice for his broken heart.

Wanted to, anyway, when he thought about how he’d react if he ever saw her again.

“Callum…” It all melts away as she speaks, so quiet and so soft, a plea for forgiveness wrapped in his name. 

All the pain and grief vanishes, and he steps towards her, heart hammering in his chest warmer than he’s felt in a long time. 

They step towards each other, and the pace quickens and in an instant they crash into each other’s arms. He’s taller than her now, only just, and she leans up to press her mouth into his, and he crushes her lips with passion. There’s a hitch in his shoulders as he suppresses a sob, whether from joy or grief or both, neither can tell, and she gasps as arms - much stronger than she recalls - wrap around her tightly.

Rayla presses greedily into his mouth, the pent-up love of the lost years threatening to suffocate her as she slides her tongue between his teeth, which he parts eagerly. His hands slide across her back and sides, memorizing the newer contours of her body. Her hands follow suit, one grasping his hair and the other sliding down to his belt.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp, eyes darkening with lust, and wordlessly he nods towards the door to his quarters. Rayla nods in return, and practically shoves him through the door, slamming it behind her. He doesn’t wait scarcely a second before his hungry mouth finds her neck, laying rough kisses on her throat and dragging a quiet gasp of pleasure from her. The hand still in his hair tightens, and she presses her lower body against him, hooking a leg around his and pressing her loins into him. 

His hand snakes around her backside, grasping her ass tightly and eliciting another, louder gasp from her as she quakes from his touch. His kisses have trailed lower now, nipping at the edge of her tunic, and she cannot resist any longer, ten years of frustration and denial now ripping their way out of her. 

She forcefully grabs Callum by the arms and shoves him backwards, throwing him onto the bed. He’s stunned, briefly, and she takes the opportunity to crawl on top of him, straddling his waist as she pulls off her tunic, naked now to the waist, bare breasts illuminated by the dim moonlight. She feels something hard twitch against her leg, but she doesn’t give him any opportunity beyond that to react, because she seizes his wrists and pins him to the bed, silencing his moan of pleasure with a rough kiss. 

He reciprocates, and their tongues swirl around each other, the push and pull of their breath all they can think about for a moment as they explore each other’s mouths with far more hunger and passion than the chaste kisses of youth. Her breast grazes against his chest, and once again she feels him stiffen beneath her. Smirking through the kiss, she pulls away and presses downward, pushing her sex into his groin, and he moans in delighted agony, struggling beneath her as pleasure and desire course through him.

Rayla frees his hands so she can unfasten his own shirt and belt, and as she does so his hands find her breasts, squeezing them eagerly, his soft fingers brushing against her pert nipples. She frees his chest from his shirt, and brushes her fingers against the small dusting of hair on his chest, stroking him gently as he sighs at her touch. It’s her turn now to trail kisses down his chin, his neck, his throat, his chest, before she runs her tongue back the way she came, and he groans, shaking as he’s overcome with lust. 

“You like that?” she purrs in his ear as she flicks her tongue against the rounded tip. He nods vigorously, and she does it again, down and up the other side, and this time the moan is louder. 

“Gods above, Rayla,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching her body to him and pressing kisses to her jaw, to her neck, to her breasts. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

She knows, and she’s wanted him too, but they can talk about what’s gone before later. She silences him with another crushing kiss, rocking backwards to feel him harden against her. 

Unable to resist anymore, Rayla pushes away from him and begins to shimmy out of her boots and leggings. Diplomatic incidents be damned, she’s waited long enough for this. The moon is waxing, anyway, so she needn’t worry about adding a half elf to the royal line of Katolis. Not yet, anyway.

Callum takes the opportunity to shuck his own remaining clothing, and for a brief moment the two of them stare in silence, appreciating each other’s bodies. It’s only a brief moment, however, because Rayla, unable to resist the blazing inferno in between her legs any longer, pounces on him and grinds eagerly against his naked groin. 

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” he moans, eyes rolling back in his head slightly. 

“Yup,” she says coyly, and does it again, enjoying the sounds Callum makes as she grinds against him. She’s slick with lust now, so she slides backwards, and eases herself onto him, pulling a loud, low moan out of him. “I see you’re still a loud mage,” she teases.

“I’ll show  _ you _ loud…” He deftly flips her onto her back, and straddles her carefully before plunging himself inside her. Rayla gasps, eyes widening and rolling back slightly, before she looks up into Callum’s face. His expression is soft, and it’s evident that he  _ wants _ her, just as badly as she wants him. 

“Do that again,” she says, softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and arching her back.

He complies, again and again and again.

Later, down the hall, at the entrance to the diplomat wing, the guards pretend not to hear the twin screams of ecstasy that echo through the golden halls. 

_ If you forgive me all this… _

They lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, for a good while. Callum plays with a lock of Rayla’s hair, and she traces the runes on his arms, the two of them just… breathing. Being. 

She breaks the silence. “I’m sorry for leaving. And for lying to you.”

He’s quiet for a while, trying to decide how he feels, thinking. She gives him the space, although the wait twists anxiously in her chest.

_ If I forgive you all that… _

He looks up at her with a small smile. “At least you came back to me.”

Tears well in the corners of her eyes, and she presses her forehead into his, a sob that turns into a laugh. He lifts her chin so her eyes meet his once more. They kiss once again, softer this time, a kiss that isn’t driven by hunger and passion, but one that melts the years away and says all is forgiven.

Rayla settles into Callum’s embrace, resting her head against his chest, finally able to sleep beside him and put the nightmares and pain behind her. He cradles her against him, delicately kissing her horns, before he leans back and drifts off to sleep.

_ We forgive and forget, and it’s all coming back to me now. _

  
  
  



End file.
